The Simple Life of Ronald Weasley
by Mirandoo
Summary: After arguing with Harry and Hermione while on their search for Horcruxes, Ron disapparates and claims to have been staying at Shell Cottage... but where was he really? This story reveals what happens when Ron arrives in a world quite unlike his own. AU
1. Prologue : Prewett's Important Mistake

**Hello everyone! This is just a little idea I came up with for a story, this is only the prologue, you need to read Chapter One to really get your teeth into the story! Please REVIEW and tell me what you think/whether I should continue! **

**THANKSIES! **

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><p>Prologue - Prewett's Mistake<p>

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><p>"Sir, is it true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"<p>

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said Professor Slughorn, sitting in a comfortable winged armchair, his feet resting upon a velvet pouffe, and a glass of wine in his left hand. The other hand was foraging in a box of crystallised pineapple. Slughorn was a large man, with thick, shiny, straw-coloured hair and a fabulous gingery-blonde moustache, which gave him the appearance of a walrus in clothes, "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy; more knowledgeable than half the staff you are."

He shot Tom a look of admiration. The boy smiled at him, and the other boys sitting around the table glanced at him as though to bask in his reflected glory.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flatter of the people who matter- thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite- I confidently expect you to rise to Minister for Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple. I have _excellent_ contacts at the Ministry."

Tom smiled at his teacher as the other boys laughed, he was not the eldest of the group, yet seemed to be looked upon as their leader, "I don't know whether politics would suit me sir," he said graciously, "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

"Nonsense," said Slughorn briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent Wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet." The small golden clock standing upon Slughorn's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay by in morrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. Slughorn heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; one of the boys was still standing there.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..." Slughorn said hurriedly

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something," Tom said, his pale face illuminated by the flickering firelight.

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away. . . ."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about. . . about Horcruxes.'

Slughorn stared at him, his thick fingers clawing the stem of his wine glass. He looked as though he was about to answer, and then suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Come in!" Slughorn said, possibly a little louder than he meant to, as it came out as more of a screech.

The door opened, and a small man in his late twenties walked in. He had bright red hair, freckles and was wearing horn-rimmed glasses.

"Terribly sorry to disturb you Horrace," he tittered nervously.

"Not at all, Ignatius, not at all," Slughorn replied, looking relieved to have been given an excuse not to have to talk about Horcruxes, "Tom here was just leaving, weren't you Tom?"

"Yes, Professor," Tom replied, and walked towards the door, looking disappointed, "Good night Professor Slughorn, Professor Prewett." He nodded his head towards Ignatius, who smiled at him, then closed the door behind him.

"What can I do for you Professor?" Slughorn asked.

"Well sir," Prewett replied, "Albus sent me here to check on Mr. Riddle. It seemed rather urgent- he was flustered. It was as though he'd seen a ghost!"

"Well, now you've seen the young Tom was alright, you won't mind leaving will you Ignatius?" Slughorn said shortly, his eyebrows folded in befuddlement, "I'm not a young man, after all, need my sleep don't I?"

"Of course, Horance," Prewett said quietly, and left the room without another word.


	2. Chapter 1 : A Curious Comrade

Chapter 1 – A Curious Comrade

Ron swung his long legs off the bed and sat up. He felt angry, mean, and unlike himself.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

"I don't know?" said Harry. "I don't know?"

The rain was falling harder and heavier; it pattered on bank all around them and into the river chattering through the dark. Ron knew he was dowsing the fire of Harry and Hermione's excitement. He didn't care anymore, the anger which had been building up for weeks was finally releasing itself.

"It's not like I'm not having the time of my life here," he said, "you know, with my arm mangled and nothing to eat and freezing my backside off every night. I just hoped, you know, after we'd been running round a few weeks, we'd have achieved something."

"Ron," Hermione said, but in such a quiet voice that he could pretend not to have heard it over the loud rain beating on the tent. He ignored her and instead glared at Harry.

"I thought you knew what you'd signed up for," said Harry.

"Yeah, I thought I did too."

"So what part of it isn't living up to your expectations?" asked Harry, Ron could see anger rising in his face. "Did you think we'd be staying in five-star hotels? Finding a Horcrux every other day? Did you think you'd be back to Mummy by Christmas?"

"We thought you knew what you were doing!" Ron shouted, standing up, his anger at Harry and his ridiculous search was reaching boiling point. "We thought Dumbledore had told you what to do, we thought you had a real plan!"

"Ron!" said Hermione, this time clearly audible over the rain thundering on the tent roof, but again, he pretended not to hear. He couldn't face her.

"Well, sorry to let you down," said Harry, his voice quite calm even though it was clear he was full of anger. "I've been straight with you from the start. I told you everything Dumbledore told me. And in the case you haven't noticed, we've found one Horcrux-"

"Yeah, and we're about as near getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of them-nowhere effing near in other words."

"take off the locket, Ron," Hermione said, her voice unusually high. "Please take it off. You wouldn't be talking like this if you hadn't been wearing it all day."

"Yeah, he would," said Harry, "D'you think I haven't noticed the two of you whispering behind my back? D'you think I didn't guess you were thinking this stuff?

"Harry, we weren't-"

"Don't lie!" Ron shouted at her, this was her fault too. "You said it too, you said you were disappointed, you said you'd thought he had a bit more to go on than-"

"I didn't say it like that-Harry, I didn't!" she cried.

"So why are you still here?" Harry asked Ron.

"Search me," said Ron.

"Go home then," said Harry.

"Yeah, maybe I will!" shouted Ron, and he took several steps toward Harry, who did not back away from him. His mind shot back to what he had just heard outside the tent about Ginny, and he thought about George's ear, and Greyback's attack on Bill. It was all Harry's fault. Each time they'd been fighting to save Harry, to protect Harry, to stop _Harry_ from facing any more difficult no matter who got hurt in the process. "Didn't you hear what they said about my sister? But you don't give a rat's fart, do you, it's only the Forbidden Forest, Harry I've-Faced-Worse Potter doesn't care what happened to her in there-well, I do, all right, giant spiders and mental stuff-"

"I was only saying-she was with the others, they were with Hagrid-"

"Yeah, I get it, you don't care! And what about the rest of my family, 'the Weasleys don't need another kid injured,' did you hear that?"

"Yeah, I-" Harry started.

"Not bothered what it meant, though?"

"Ron!" said Hermione, forcing her way between them. "I don't think it means anything new has happened, anything we don't know about; think, Ron, Bill's already scared, plenty of people must have seen that George has lost an ear by now, and you're supposed to be on your deathbed with spattergroit, I'm sure that's all he meant-"

"Oh, you're sure, are you? Right then, well, I won't bother myself about them. It's all right for you, isn't it, with your parents safely out of the way-"

"My parents are dead!" Harry bellowed.

"And mine could be going the same way!" yelled Ron.

"Then GO!" roared Harry. "Go back to them, pretend you're got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and-"

"Protego!" Hermione cried, drawing her wand, and an invisible shield expanded between her and Harry on the one side and Ron on the other; all of them were forced backward a few steps by the strength of the spell, and Harry and Ron glared from either side of the transparent barrier as though they were seeing each other clearly for the first time.

"Leave the Horcrux," Harry said.

Ron wrenched the chain from over his head and cast the locket into a nearby chair. He turned to Hermione.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you staying, or what?"

"I…" She looked anguished. "Yes-yes, I'm staying. Ron, we said we'd go with Harry, we said we'd help-"

"I get it. You choose him," yet another blow hit Ron hard in the chest. He headed for the door, into the pouring rain. He could hear Hermione calling him from inside the tent, but his anger encased him inside his own head. He wanted nothing more than for this to all be over, and as he disapparated, he immediately knew something was not right.

He could feel himself being not only crushed, but bent, twisted and thrown about as he travelled through empty space. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, all he could do was think about the place he had just left, and just how little he wanted to go back. Ron felt as though he might pass out, and then, as suddenly as the sensation had started, it stopped. He was in a long corridor, lined either side by suits of armour and paintings. He thought, stupidly for a moment that it could be Hogwarts, but then heard Hermione's voice in his head, _"Haven't you ever read Hogwarts: A History? You can't apparate inside the grouds!"_.

"Alright Weasley?" said a drawling voice from behind him. Ron turned around to see Draco Malfoy at the other end of the corridor. He drew his wand, before noticing that there were several things which were different about Malfoy. His expression was kinder, he did not have his wand drawn as Ron did, and, rather oddly, he was dressed in Gryffindor quidditch robes.

"What are you doing Malfoy?" Ron asked warily, his wand still drawn.

"What's going on, mate?" he asked in a most un-Malfoy-like tone, "Why aren't you changed?"

"Changed?" Ron asked, "For what? Why are you in Quidditch robes?"

"The game, idiot," Malfoy laughed, approaching Ron, "Gryffindor vs. Slytherin? Biggest game of the year? The one we've been training for for months? Potters been doing his nut about it? Has someone obliviated you or something?"

Severely confused, Ron chose to go along with it, rather than attack Malfoy here, there was no way to tell how many Death Eaters were around him, "Where are we?" Ron asked the first thing that came into his head.

"Are you sure you haven't been jinxed?" Malfoy asked worriedly, "We're in the Charms corridor mate, I was on my way to come find you in the tower. You're late for the game."

He spoke as though talking to a mental patient, and Ron stared at him even harder, "So, where are your little Death Eater friends, Malfoy?" he asked him. He could no longer put up with this nice-act.

"Ha-ha," said Malfoy, "A jab at my parents I see Weasley, very clever. Thought the joke was a little old by now, but no matter-" he stopped mid-sentence, as Ron dived and pulled up the red sleeve covering his left arm, "-what are you doing!"

Ron looked to see that it was bare. Nothing but pale white skin, "Where is it!" he shouted, "Hidden it, have you?"

"What are you on about, Ron?" Malfoy asked.

"I saw you had it," Ron said, wondering how Malfoy had hidden his dark mark, "I saw it!"

"Saw wha-? Oh," Malfoy seemed finally to have understood, "Well... it appears you may be a little confused my friend, I'm no Death Eater, you must've seen Septimus then."

"Who the bloody hell is Septimus?" Ron asked him.

"My brother?" Malfoy said confusedly, "Bloody hell whoever got you was pretty good Ron- you know, little squit, in Slytherin, 5th Year, thinks he's clever by getting into the Dark Arts. Course my parents can't get enough of him but-"

"-you mean that you're not in Slytherin… or into the Dark Arts… or … you know, a Death Eater?" Ron asked. He could see no reason why Malfoy would continue this lie for so long. He was a terrible actor, Ron had seen it, and if he had wanted to kill him, he would have done it by now. Although he had no idea where he was, he was pretty sure this wasn't the same Draco Malfoy he knew and hated.

"Course not," said Draco, grinning at him, "When I was little it was my dream, wasn't it, to be like my dad, but when I was put in Gryffindor he practically kicked me out didn't he?"

"Oh yeah," Ron laughed, going along with it, he had to appear as though he knew what was going on, "It's coming back to me… was a pretty strong Befuddling Jinx they got me with… probably Slytherins… trying to make us lose."

"Good to see you're back to normal mate, " said Draco, "Now run and get changed and I'll see you down at the pitch."

Ron ran as quickly as he could up the stairs and towards the portrait of the Fat Lady. He found Ginny climbing out of it, also in her Quidditch robes.

"Hurry up, Ron," she grinned at him, Ron was glad to see at least one person was normal in this place, "Potter'll kill you if you're late."

Ron grinned back and climbed through the portrait hole himself. He couldn't work out why everyone was being so hostile about Harry, that was, until he got down to the Quidditch pitch. He arrived in the changing room five minutes late, to a team made up if himself, Malfoy, Ginny, Harry, Dean Thomas, Ritchie Coote and Jimmy Peakes. Only Harry didn't look like Harry at all. He was taller, at least by three inches, than Ron knew him, and broader in the shoulders too. He lacked the friendly, slightly under-confident smile and domineer of Ron's best friend, replaced instead with an arrogance which rivalled that of Cormac McLaggen. He didn't wear glasses, so his green eyes pierced Ron as he entered the small room, and, most importantly of all, he had no scar on his forehead.

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><p><strong>The beginning of this chapter was adapted from a passage in The Deathly Hallows, so I don't claim to have written it :) I hope you enjoyed this first chapter... please REVIEW! And tell me what you think!<strong>


	3. Chapter 2 : Potter is Our King

**Hello again :) here's my second installment of the story... I hope you love it, and please REVIEW! And any suggestions for further story lines **

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><p>Chapter 2-<p>

"Weasley, you're late," Potter said. Ron thought of him as Potter, as he couldn't bring himself even to think of this boy as Harry, as he so clearly was not his best friend.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said quickly, regretting calling Potter 'mate' with equal haste, "I, I over slept. Won't happen again."

"Overslept, did you Weasley?" Potter's eyes lit with anger, and Ron saw the anger of his best friend in the tent what seemed like minutes ago, "Well, you know what happens to member of the team who over sleep don't you?" Ginny grimaced and Malfoy looked apologetically at Ron, and he couldn't help but grin back. "They get dropped from the team. Weasley, get changed and go back to the castle, Rogers, you're up." He pointed to a scrawny looking fourth year sitting on the benches behind Ron. The boy stood up excitedly, grabbed a broom from the cupboard and joined the rest of the team as they marched out onto the pitch.

Ron couldn't say he was disappointed at having been dropped from the team. If anything he felt like rejoicing. He had hours to kill in an empty castle. He could find out what had happened to him, whether or not this was Hogwarts, and most importantly, how to put everything right. On his walk back to the castle he replayed his last few moments with Hermione and Harry in his head… _"I get it. You choose him."_ Hermione had chosen his best friend over him, the best friend who had just kicked him from the Quidditch team. Had he fallen asleep behind a tree? Or had he hit his head when he apparated and been lulled into a dream world? Ron arrived at the portrait of the fat lady, and suddenly realised he had forgotten the password.

"Can I just come in anyway?" he asked hopefully.

"Sorry, no password, no entry," The Fat Lady said to him, stony faced. Ron turned and headed for the first place that came to his mind. In his past the Hogwarts Library had always yielded such a power to give all the answers they had needed, it was almost second nature to go in on a quiet afternoon to find answers. Yet without Hermione leading and Harry trailing reluctantly behind, it didn't seem right. There was something missing. Ron rounded another corner and came face to face with a girl. She fell over, dropping a heavy book on his feet.

"Fuck!" he swore loudly, "Sorry about that," he bent down to pick up the book and found himself looking into some very familiar eyes, "Hermione?"

"Yes," she looked at him quizzically as he handed her back the book, entitled, _Bridging the Gap : A Beginner's Guide to Unipparition_, "Ron, what's wrong with your face you look as though you've seen… well not a ghost, we see them all the time, but a vampire or something!"

"Nothing's wrong," he said quickly, "Just surprised to see you here. Not watching the match?"

"When Potters captain? I'd rather eat a bucket of pickled toads."

"Well I've heard they're a delicacy in France," Ron grinned at her, "What's Potter's problem, anyway?"

"Why're you asking me?" Hermione asked him, laughing, "You know better than anyone!"

"What.. oh yeah!" Ron stuttered, "Well, he just seemed like a particular arsehole this morning."

"You've got that right," Hermione smiled, "He even slapped my arse at breakfast."

Ron suddenly felt another wave of anger wash over him, "The complete _bastard_!"

"Yes, well, Draco wasn't terribly impressed with him, he even considering skipping the game to stay in the library with me! Can you imagine, Draco, in the Library?" she laughed at the thought, "He promised to hex him for me and make him fall off his broom. I'm surprised it even stays up with that fat head of his, but Draco was so sweet!"

"Well I'm not too impressed either to be honest- wait," suddenly something had registered in his head. Draco. As in Draco Malfoy? Suddenly Ron felt yet more anger. He felt as though his brain might explode. In the space of one day two of what seemed to be his best friends had stolen Hermione from him.

"Yes Ron?" she said, looking expectantly at him, "Wait what?"

"Do you want to come back to the library with me?" Ron asked quickly.

"Really?" Hermione looked at him, "Are you _sure_ you're feeling okay Ron? You never want to come to the library- wait… Potter didn't kick you off the team did he!"

"How'd you guess?" Ron shrugged.

"You just had a look," Hermione said as they turned to walk back to the library together, "But I'm surprised you didn't hex him there and then!"

"I'll get him with that Toe-Nail thing of the Prince's later," Ron said quickly, before realising that she probably would have no idea who or what the Price was, as he and Harry had never been friends, but to his surprise Hermione giggled.

"Not again," she furrowed her brows, "Last time he fucking rinsed you for it, remember? I wouldn't want those boils on _my_ face again."

Ron covered his confused look with a smile, "Yeah, I guess not. Maybe I'll just hide his broom or something."

"Much better."

Ron's afternoon in the Library with Hermione was the most pleasant one he'd had in a long time. They talked, albeit in whispers, and laughed (quietly), and Ron forgot all about where he was, and why he'd gone to the library in the first place. It turned out there are two things which hinder trying to find something in a library, one, having no clue where to even begin, and two, being in the presence of someone you are completely in love with. That evening, Ron was sitting on his bed in the empty boy's dormitory. It was almost exactly as he had remembered it. His bed was the same, as were most of his things, his photo of his family in Egypt, a picture of Ginny, Fred and George, all laughing at the camera. But things were different. Where there had been a photo of him, Harry and Hermione, instead there was one of himself with Draco and Dean. Where he had kept newspaper cuttings of Rita Skeeter's articles about Harry and himself in the news, now there were school books and torn papers. Whoever had been living his life in this place had not lived _his_ life at all. Whoever had been filling in for him while he'd been off with Harry and Hermione was not only different, but gone. The thought that there was another version of himself somewhere either in the castle, or in another town, or city, or as it seemed to him, another world, was not a pleasant one.

"Ron?" Draco appeared at the door, "I've been looking for you for hours mate where were you? Its nearly supper! Potter didn't catch the snitch, so we lost. Arrogant prick thought he'd do some _fancy moves_ and ended up falling off his broom… course he had a bit of help from the Confundus Charm I shot at him. He deserved it though, you know he slapped Hermione's arse at breakfast?"

"I heard," Ron said, "I don't get what his deal is. Why is he such a _bastard_?"

"Surely you know mate, you were friends with him for long enough!"

"When was I _ever_ friends with him!" Ron asked incredulously, before realising this might seem a little strange to someone who had no idea that he had no idea where he was. Ron's head started to hurt.

"Until third year wasn't it?" Draco said, "I know you like to pretend it never happened, but it did mate," he sat down on the bed and took a packet of Bertie Bott's from his pocket, "you always said," he mumbled through a mouthful of beans, "that he liked to blame it on his family. Always muttering about how much of a '_difficult childhood'_ he'd had. I mean, it's hardly pleasant for your mum to run off with another man is it? But you'd think he'd want a few friends to keep him company, you know?"

"Yeah, I do," Ron said quietly, "You know what mate, go on to supper without me, I need to get changed."

"Yeah, catch you later," Draco said, leaving the dormitory in a hurry. Ron sat in the dark thinking about what he'd just heard. Obviously Voldemort had never killed Harry's parents, and from what Draco had said he guessed Lily had run off with someone else, leaving Potter to be brought up by James, and he deduced, Sirius. No wonder he was such an arrogant little fucker. Being brought up by those two would hardly qualify you for the modestly awards. He got up from his bed and began to look through Potter's stuff almost subconsciously. There were photos on his bedside table too, of himself on a tiny racing broom, as his mum laughed in the background, of his mum and dad hugging each other, of his dad and Sirius laughing as he chased a small, black-haired girl around a garden. Could Potter have a sister in this place? He found some familiar round framed glasses shoved at the back of a drawer, and wondering how Potter didn't have to wear them, and also Sirius' mirror, unlike the broken shard which resided in the _real_ Harry's moleskin bag at that moment. Ron couldn't comprehend the differences. It was clear that Potter was an arsehole, but the reason why was still unclear. He stood up straight and left the dorm, closing the door behind him.

The thing he wanted to see most at supper was the teacher's table, as this was always a clear indication of differences. As he entered the great hall his glance shot instantly up to the long table at the end of the room. There, at the head of the table, sat Albus Dumbledore, as alive as Ron was, smiling down at his students. Beside him sat Professor McGonagall and Snape, Ron felt anger surge up inside of him in spite of himself. He knew that in this place it was clear as day that Snape had not killed Dumbledore, but it was still all he could do not to go up and rip him limb from limb. Beside Snape was Professor Burbage, and beside her was Professor Sprout. Beside McGonagall were Flitwick and Hagrid. Ron smiled; it was nice to know that Hagrid was still a teacher here. Suddenly Ron felt a jolt, sitting beside Hagrid was a familiar pale face. One Ron hadn't seen in six years. Professor Quirrell sat nervously beside the man twice his size, looking around the room as though hoping desperately for an escape route. He wasn't wearing a turban, however, as there was clearly no Voldemort for him to hide, instead his head was entirely bald, giving him the appearance of a hardboiled egg.

"Ron!" a voice snapped him out of his trance, as Hermione's hand beckoned him towards the Gryffindor table. He hurried up the gap between the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables, steeling a quick glance over to the Slytherin table, in hope of catching sight of Malfoy's little brother. How many other second siblings could there be? Did Potter have a brother or sister? Did he have another sibling? He sat down beside Hermione and Draco.

"Where've you been, mate?" Draco asked, "Potter was making jokes that you'd hung yourself in the bathroom."

"He wishes," Ron grinned, "I was looking for your brother mate, trying to get him back for this morning," he lied smoothly, "Couldn't see him at the Slytherin table."

Draco's face tightened at the mention of his brother, "Septimus has detention this evening, I believe," he said coldly, "Pass the carrots, Rosie."

A black-haired girl, who looked about sixteen, passed the carrots from beside Ginny, "Why're you so hung up on Septimus all the time Draco? He's a bloody waste of space," she laughed, "We all know you're the better sibling."

"Ooh, has Rosie got a little crush on Draco?" Ginny laughed, and Rosie slapped her cheerfully on the head.

"Eew, shove off Weasley," she smiled, "We're related."

"It's illegal to marry family members, Gin," Draco said.

"Actually, you're technically allowed to marry anyone from first cousins onwards," Hermione put in, "Since your parents are only _cousins_, technically, you two _could_ get married…. Not that I want you to sweetheart," she added, and kissed Draco on the cheek.

Ron felt his insides boil. He had to restrain himself from punching Draco in the face. There was a smash, and suddenly he realised that he had broken his goblet and spilled pumpkin juice over everyone, "Sorry," he mumbled, siphoning it up with his wand.

"Since when have you known how to do that, Ron?" Hermione asked incredulously.

"Breaking stuff?" Ron replied, confused at such a ridiculous question, "Um… well I've always been a bit clumsy but-"

"-not breaking things you dolt!" Hermione laughed, "Cleaning things, with magic! You've never been able to do anything like that kind of magic!"

Ron felt rather affronted, and it clearly showed on his face, as Hermione amended her statement, "I mean, you can do some spells but you've always had trouble with… um… cleaning spells and stuff…"

"Huh," Ron shrugged, feeling it would be foolish to protest, "Well I guess I've finally got the knack. Anyway, how do you reckon I should punish Potter for kicking me off the team?"

"What do you mean, _punish_ him?" said Rosie, "He'll just rinse you again, like he always does, you should know better by now Ron."

"Yeah, we haven't forgotten those boils yet," Ginny laughed.

"Well I'm just feeling… lucky today," Ron grinned, "Potter doesn't own the school. He needs to be knocked down a peg or two."

"Good luck with that, Ron," said Draco, "But Potters been running this school for seven years."


	4. Chapter 3 : The Potion's Master

Chapter 3-

When Ron awoke on Monday morning, the light in the dormitory was dim and listless. His Sunday had been spent trying to discover what exactly had happened to him, but somehow he had been incredibly unsuccessful. This was mainly due to the fact that for the first time in months he was almost carefree. If nothing else was clear, one thing that was that there was no Voldemort in this world, and by the looks of things there hadn't been for some time. He had devoted many hours in bed last night considering whether or not to tell anyone of his situation. At first he considered telling Hermione, who would, as usual, probably have an answer. However, telling her would involve admitting to abandoning her in the forest, and deserting his best friend in his time of need. That wasn't something Ron could contemplate doing… yet.

Everything looked grey as he sat up in bed, forgetting momentarily where he was, he chucked a balled-up pair of socks in the direction of Harry's bed. Much to his surprise, it was a rather confused looking Draco Malfoy who received the rather wiffy hit. He fought the sudden urge to shout him out of the room, remembering that the Malfoy here was actually a decent guy.

"Wash them first next time please mate," Draco threw the socks back, "Or aim them for Potter and not me. Go back to sleep."

Ron, however, got up and looked around the dormitory, taking it in again. It was curious how something so familiar could be so different. This room was where he had spent much of his adolescence, yet it felt no more like home than the dingy tent which he had just left. The bed next to his on the left contained a snoring Seamus Finnegan, who was just as Ron knew him, cheerful with a particular proclivity for pyrotechnics. Beside his was the bed of Dean Thomas, again, as Ron remembered him. Perhaps he was a little more confident than the Dean that Ron knew, but still not so different as the boy in the bed next along from Dean's. That was the bed of Neville Longbottom. Currently asleep, the only noticeable difference in Neville was his slightly slimmer faceand longer hair, but awake he was near unrecognisable. Ron had had his first encounter with 'Nev' on his first night there. Dazed and confused Ron had made a passing remark to him, temporarily forgetting to anticipate a different reaction than that of his Neville. Nev, as he wished to be referred to, had turned on Ron in a menacing way and threatened to curse him into another world. At that moment, Draco had appeared and calmed him down, but Ron had learnt his lesson. 'Nev' Longbottom was not to be messed with.

The bed next to Draco's contained an angry looking Harry Potter. Suddenly Ron realised that he had been staring at him.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Potter demanded, "Think you'll get back on the Quidditch team by giving me the eye? Nice plan, dickhead. Avert your eyes before I remove them."

Ron shrugged and turned away. This was something he had learned about Potter; he was full of empty threats. Turning away and ignoring them was, although immensely difficult, the right thing to do. He would curse him later with something brilliant, but as with so many brilliant ideas, this one was taking a long time to formulate.

Draco finally got up and dressed about ten minutes later. The sun had risen fully now and the bright autumn sunlight was shining through the windows of the Gryffindor common room. Ron and he met Hermione and Rosie before heading down for breakfast. Rosie seemed a nice girl, certainly feisty and funny, quite intelligent and not unattractive. He had not yet worked out why she didn't exist in his Hogwarts life. She certainly wasn't a friend of Ginny's where he came from; despite being in her year- could that mean that she had never been born? He hoped not. He made him uneasy to think that she didn't really exist. The enchanted sky in the great hall was a clear blue, with a single wispy grey cloud drifting over the Slytherin table. Septimus Malfoy, who was his brother in miniature in all but personality, stuck his middle finger up at Ron as they entered the room. Ron took his wand from his pocket as a precaution, he had the feeling that nothing would get past him today.

"Morning, Draco," a cold voice spoke from behind Ron's head, "I got a parcel from Mother this morning. Contained a new set of Quidditch gloves for me, and for you… this," Septimus Malfoy, who had approached Draco and Ron from the Slytherin table, dropped a small brown paper ball onto the table. It fell with a clatter onto one of the golden plates containing slightly cold toast. Ron couldn't help but notice how similar Septimus was to the Malfoy he knew and hated. The cold, refined drawl and sleek blonde hair of the younger Malfoy brother contrasted heavily with the well-spoken and well-mannered tone and messy blonde fringe of Draco.

"Cheers, bro," Draco said coolly, taking the parcel and shoving it in the pocket of his robes, showing no obvious interest in its contents, "Are they well?"

"If by 'they' you mean Mother and Father, they're just fine thank you," Septimus said in a clipped voice.

"Shame," Draco replied. Ron couldn't help but spit his orange juice back into his glass with laughter.

"Think something's funny do you Weasley?" Septimus rounded on Ron, "My _dear_ brother may have forgotten what blood traitors your lot are, but the rest of us Malfoys most certainly have not."

"Blood status is dead, _Septimus_," Draco snapped at his brother, "Anyone who pretends any differently is a fool."

"Indeed," Septimus seemed bored by his brother's comment, which had intrigued Ron so heavily, "Anyway, fascinating as your comments may be, I have Muggle Studies, and Professor Burbage does get _so _annoyed when I'm late."

"Sarky little git," Draco said none too quietly as his brother left the Gryffindor table, "Did you get him with the toenail thing?"

"Nah," Ron laughed, beginning to enjoy Draco's company the more time they spent together, "Took the high road… I'll get him later… I can do a mean Bat-Bogey Hex."

"No you can't!" Ginny piped up from next to him, "I was trying to teach you all last week and you failed _miserably_."

Ron glared at her as he finished his now stone cold toast.

First lesson of the day was Potions. It seemed that despite being lousy at practical spells, his counterpart here had a talent for Potion making. They headed to the Dungeons after breakfast for their lesson. Ron was dreading seeing Snape this lesson. Over the last forty eight hours he had been able to avoid the bastard as much as possible, but this morning it would be impossible. They filed in one by one, Draco and Hermione were both taking Potions, as were Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbot, Blaise Zabini and Potter. Snape's dislike of Potter was as evident in this world as it was in his own. The moment they sat down his sneer was sent in Potter's direction, causing Potter to look almost human. Not having spent as much time with a Harry Potter as Ron had, the other members of his class seemed not to have picked up on this, but for a moment Ron almost felt sorry for the smarmy bastard.

"Remove your books from your bags," Snape said quietly, "Collect your Cauldrons from the Cold-room. Continue to brew them, and then we shall be testing their potency on one-another."

Ron looked confusedly at Hermione, who was already making her way for the Cold-room, and part of the Potions classroom which he had not yet entered. He was unsure of what they had been brewing, however the moment he entered the Cold-room, the contents of his cauldron became hideously clear. The thick, sludgy liquid was all too familiar to Ron, having been forced to consume the Potion on numerous occasions. He took his cauldron to his table and opened his book to the page entitled _Polyjuice_ _Potion_. According to his own notes it seemed all that needed to be done was stirring consistently for thirty-seven and a half minutes, before adding the hair of the person into whom he wished to transform. From the look of the other members of his class, he was ahead of them all, and as he continued to stir his potion his ears wandered to the dialogue which was occurring between Snape and Potter.

"May I remind you, Potter, that this practical assessment will count towards a third of your overall N.E.W.T examination result? Can you get it into that thick skull of yours that should you wish to enter the Auror training academy next September that you need an A grade or higher in this class? Or are you so arrogant and useless at Potions as that charming father of yours that you feel you will get into the program on _good looks_ alone?" Snape was breathing down his neck as Potter ferociously chopped his ingredients, looking angrier by the moment, "Your mother has always had a Potions talent, Potter, and one might have hoped that you would have inherited her skill. Though judging from your poor attainment over the last term I doubt you will achieve as _highly_ as she has done in life."

There was something not right about the unusually intimate way in which Snape was berating Potter. He was not talking to him as a student, but almost as a school bully might talk to his favourite prey. Taunting him about his parents- but of course here Potter still had his parents, perhaps not in the way he might have chosen, but at least they were alive.

"OH JUST BUGGER OFF!" The noise issued from Potter's mouth made everyone in the room jump, causing Pansy Parkinson's cauldron to land on the floor, forming a large, black smoking ring to form, "ALL MY BLOODY LIFE YOU'VE BEEN SAYING I'M NOT GOOD ENOUGH! WELL YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU GREASY LITTLE GIT? YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH. YOU'RE NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR THIS SCHOOL, FOR THE MINISTRY OR FOR MY MUM. I'M TIRED OF YOUR EFFING BULLSHIT."

The dungeon was silent for a moment, as Potter and Snape faced each other, breathing heavily as neither spoke. Snape took a step back and spoke quietly, "Detention, Potter."

Potter picked up his books, and stormed from the dungeon, leaving a stench of bitterness behind him. By the looks of everyone else in his class, this was not normal behaviour for Potter, who usually kept his guards up so high you could barely see his face. Ron looked at Hermione, who was still in shock from Potter's outburst. She seemed to have noticed the confused look on his face, and was now looking into his eyes in a way which made him feel extremely uneasy. It was as though she knew something about him. Ron felt his stomach turn nervously.

Yet later that day, Ron couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with Potter. He approached Hermione during their free lesson when Draco had Muggle Studies, apparently he had continued it to N.E.W.T level it so as to spite his father yet more.

"So," Ron said in a most unconvincingly casual tone, slouching on the sofa beside Hermione in the cosy Gryffindor common room, "That was a weird outburst by Potter earlier wasn't it? What did Snape do to him?"

Hermione's look showed he had not been as casual as he had hoped for, she furrowed her eyebrows at him, "Whatever do you mean?" she asked, "You know full-well their history… are you sure you're okay Ron? Draco and I have both noticed you've been… different… recently. I think I know why-"

Ron's heart skipped a beat, "Yeah I got hit by a pretty bad hex the other day," he lied easily, "Messed me up a bit, you know, but I'm feeling a lot better now so-"

Hermione looked at him sceptically, "Glad to hear it… I really do think it would be better if you and Potter laid off each other for a while you know? It's bad enough having enemies in Slytherin, but in your own house too? I don't know if I trust Potter not to genuinely hurt you."

"I know the guys a little bit mental but he's not a total psyco is he?" Ron said, the end of the sentence sounding more like a question than he truly meant it to.

"I know, but he's in a rough place at the moment with his dad and everything isn't he?" Hermione said, leaving Ron feeling completely out of his depth, "Having Snape for a step-dad is bad enough, but then finding your dad being sacked for misconduct is even worse! I do feel sorry for James… Rosie was saying to me and Gin last night that he's barely left her Dad's house in weeks. I don't know how Sirius puts up with it really."

Ron was utterly stunned. Suddenly everything had fallen into place. _"… you're not good enough for my mum…"_ he remembered Potter's words from earlier… could Lily have run off with Snape? Surely not… she and James had always seemed so perfect for each other… and Rosie was the daughter of Sirius Black. So she didn't exist in Ron's world. He felt a sudden pang of sadness wash over him.

"How come you know the Potters so well, Hermione?" Ron asked, surely if Potter was such a dick Hermione would never have met his father, let alone speak of him as though he was an old friend.

"James is your Godfather your pillock," Hermione looked worriedly at Ron, "Are you absolutely sure you're okay?"

"To tell you the truth, Hermione," Ron said, dazed, "I don't think I'm feeling too well after all."

* * *

><p><strong>Hello again guys! Sorry I've been ignoring this story again, but I suddenly remembered how much I love it, plus I've just finished my exams... WOOO!<strong>

**Anyway, please tell me what you think! **

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	5. Chapter 4 : Unipparition

Chapter 4-

Over the next few days, Ron couldn't help but spend as much time as he could with Hermione. They had one lesson together without Draco – Care of Magical creatures. Draco had never really taken to the subject after an incident with a Hippogriff in his third year that he had never really got over, according to Ginny. Ron had found his sister an oddly calming influence, where she was usually such a fiery annoyance in his life. It seemed that she was one of the only things in this strange place which was unchanged. The girl he loved was with his mortal enemy, his best friend was his mortal enemy, his best friend's dead dad was his Godfather… and Snape was married to Lily Evans. Nothing made sense to him in this place, not least why there was no Voldemort in this place. From various conversations about Death Eaters with Draco, Ron had deduced that Voldemort had existed at one point, but he couldn't seem to fathom how he had been destroyed.

Ron was sitting in the Gryffindor common room with Draco, Ginny and Hermione, who was still reading _Bridging the Gap : A Beginner's Guide to Unipparition_, when Potter approached the foursome with an odd amount of reverence.

"Alright Weasley?" He snarled, any fear being erased just by looking into Ron's eyes, "You're back on the Quidditch team. Practice is tomorrow at four. Fuck me over again and you're out for good."

He swaggered away towards the boy's dormitory.

"Well, that was nice of him," said Ginny.

"He clearly wants something from you, Ron," Draco said suspiciously, "Anyway… I think I'd better be off to bed. Bloody Burbage has set us a test tomorrow – last minute revision is required. Goodnight, darling."

As Draco moved to kiss Hermione hard on the lips, Ron felt his blood boil once more. As nice as Draco was in this place, he still couldn't cope with the sight of Hermione kissing him. He didn't like to think of himself as possessive, but to him, Hermione was _his_, not so much as a possession, but in the same way that where he came from, he was hers... at least he'd thought he was.

"What's so great about that book anyway, Hermione?" Ginny pointed to the brown, leather back book in her friend's hand, "You've been reading it for weeks."

"Ooh! I'm so glad you asked!" Hermione squealed with excitement, "It's all about Unipparition!"

"What's Unipparit-?" Ron began, but was interrupted by Hermione mid-sentence.

"It's the theory that one can bridge the gap between two universes through applied apparition," Hermione began, and Ron's stomach turned, "The author, Xander Goldsmith formulated the theory when he noticed that some people possess odd powers in apparition, for example the ability to arrive in a new place before they left the last one. The books full of interviews with Wizards who are supposedly capable of Unipparition, it's really quite fascinating! One man from Bristol said that he had gone to another world in which he had died as a child, and no one knew who he was. I'd love to be able to do that! Find myself in another world, meet my counter-part in another Universe!"

"Are you sure that's how it works?" Ron asked her as casually as he could, his mind racing, "I mean, how do you know you'd be able to meet this other you?"

"I don't, other wizards who have supposedly performed it always went to worlds in which they were dead, so it's never been done before!" Hermione's voice was squeaky with excitement, "Just imagine how different another world could be! I could be in a relationship with Potter and Voldemort might still be alive!"

Ron felt colour rise to his face, "Yeah… how ridiculous!"

"Well, fascinating as this chat is, I'm off to bed!" Ginny yawned and made her way towards the dormitories. After she was well out of earshot, Ron suddenly felt the desire to tell Hermione everything. About how he was from another Universe – had he travelled here by Unipparition? He seemed the most likely explanation…. And yet… from what Hermione had been saying, in order to Unipparate, your counterpart needed to be dead, and it was quite clear that this Ronald Weasley was very much alive.

"Hermione, I have something to tell-" He began, but was cut off by Hermione mid-sentence yet again.

"You know what Ron, it's getting late, I should probably be off to bed too… see you in Care of Magical creatures tomorrow?" Hermione got up and left, Ron wished she would stay down here with him forever, but didn't protest as she walked slowly up the stone steps towards her dormitory.

In the next twelve hours between that moment and his Care of Magical Creatures lesson, Ron's head was swimming with thoughts of crossing universes, the possible whereabouts of his counterpart, and at the forefront of his mind, Hermione. He dreamt of telling her everything, about how he had come from another universe, about how they were best friends with Potter and that Draco was a git, and mostly, about how much he loved her. He hated that Draco was so nice here, it was a feeling he was so used to, the resentment of a best friend, and yet now the resentment was mixed with a feeling of unfairness. Why was it that no matter where he was, Ron Weasley was always second best? Overshadowed always by his older brothers, constantly inferior to his best friend, never as competent at Quidditch or at spells as he was capable of being…

After breakfast the following morning he hurried down towards Hagrid's hut for his lesson. He knew he would arrive well before the rest of the class, but this didn't bother him, it would give him a nice opportunity to catch up with Hagrid. It was odd, despite the fact that Hagrid had never become close to Potter in this place, Ron and Hermione had still managed to develop a close friendship with the gentle half-giant.

"Morning Hagrid," Ron said as he approached the hut, there was steam billowing from the crooked chimney and a light frost settled on the brown earth of the pumpkin patch, where Buckbeak the Hippogriff sat happily grooming his feathers.

"Mornin' Ron!" Hagrid bellowed from across the paddock outside his little house, "Yer down early again! Just as well, yeh can help me feed Beaky!"

Ron had learnt that Buckbeak had never been sentenced to death when he had attacked Draco in Third Year, back when he was still an arrogant little twerp apparently. Hermione had told the story of how it was that incident that had humbled him over dinner the night before. Ron bowed to the majestic creature, who bowed back, before approaching him with caution, holding a large dead ferret in his left hand. He threw it into the Hippogriff's great beak, and it was swallowed instantly.

"Somethin' on yer mind Ron?" Hagrid asked as Buckbeak ate his last ferret, "Yer haven't bin' yerself this past week."

Ron attempted to hide the redness in his face by shrugging the comment off with, "…nothing really…"

At that moment, the rest of the class appeared over the brow of the hillock and began to make their way towards the pumpkin patch in which Hagrid and Ron were standing. Hermione's face was slightly pink with the cold, and her hair was flying madly around her head in the chilly wind. To anyone else she might have looked like an over-sized beaver on a bad hair day, but to Ron, she was perfect. He realised he had been staring at her and quickly averted his gaze towards Lavender Brown instead. He couldn't remember why he had ever been involved with her… after all, who could look at Lavender next to Hermione? The ditzy blonde was no competition – if only the same could be said for Draco.

The class were assigned the task of identifying four types of Centaur hoof marks on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. They split into pairs, and apparently it was the usual arrangement that Ron and Hermione were paired together. They set off towards the forest together, the only thing on Ron's mind was certainly not Centaur hooves however, his head was filled only with images of stolen moments in the Hogwarts grounds with Hermione at the end of last year, and the idea of sharing what was currently his biggest secret with her. He had never known a problem that Hermione was unable to solve, and so he felt through telling her she could help send him home. But similarly… through not telling her, he could stay here, in a world without Voldemort and without the constant threat of attack. He delved his hand into his pocket and fingered the Deluminator that he had kept in his robes since arriving… as he did so he felt cowardly for even thinking about not going back to _his _Hermione… to _his_ world.

"Ron, what do you think of this one?" Hermione broke his trance as she pointed to a hoof mark in the trodden mud, "See to me it looks like that of an adolescent but-"

"-I'm from another universe!" Ron blurted out suddenly, not realisation how utterly absurd it sounded when he said it out loud.

"-at the same time it could be a foal," Hermione seemed undeterred from her studies, and the suddenly her head turned towards him, her eyes staring directly into his, "Did you just say that you're from another universe?"

"Yes.." Ron said sheepishly, feeling the colour rise to his face. He momentarily wished he had never said anything at all.

"What exactly do you mean?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him, the Centaur's hoof completely forgotten.

"Remember that Unippartition thing you were talking about yesterday?"

"Unipparition, yes," Hermione's face was now only a few inches from his own.

"I think I've, well, you know…. Done it," Ron muttered, "I'm.. I'm certainly not from this place wherever it is I am…."

The odd thing was the Hermione didn't seem to think he was crazy, she just stared at him and said, "What's it like there?"

"Not that great," Ron said truthfully, for some reason the best summary he could find for what his world was like was, "Voldemort came back."

Hermione, being a muggle born, had little knowledge of Voldemort other than through the world of books, she asked incredulously, "So Snape never killed him!"

"Snape? … what! No! Potter… Parents… dead… Horcruxes…" Ron suddenly felt very faint, it was a little too much for him to handle, and he felt himself falling backwards onto the hard ground.

Hermione crouched down beside him, and turned his face towards her own, "Tell me everything, from the beginning."

So Ron began the story, from the beginning, that night in Godric's Hollow that had never happened in this universe, about their friendship with Harry, the Chamber of Secrets, Sirius' conviction, Voldemort's return, the Triwizard tournament, and Dumbledore's Army. He told her, albeit awkwardly, about the relationship between himself and Lavender Brown, about Dumbledore's murder and the discovery of the Horcruxes and their mission, "… so when I unipparated we were in a little place by a river… and you and Harry were realising something about the sword of Gryffindor and I just felt so angry and-" He stopped himself before he was too late, if he told Hermione that he'd abandoned her in his world, she might never trust him again.

The lesson was long since over, but neither of them seemed to care, "It says in the book that often Unipparition can occur spontaneously in a fit of anger- look, Ron I'm so sorry, I said I'd meet Draco at elven thirty in the common room. Meet here tomorrow lunch time? I need to tell you what it's been like here."

Before Ron could say another word, Hermione had stood up and begun to walk briskly back towards the castle, leaving him to contemplate what he had just done.

* * *

><p><strong>You lucky people! Two updates in one day! :) anyway, tell me what you think of this chapter... much less of a Bomb-shell chapter, more just actual story line...<strong>

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	6. Chapter 5 : The Horcrux

Chapter 5-

It took ten minutes before Ron felt himself able to go back up to the castle. He had not had any lessons that he could have missed sitting in the forest, so the only worry on his mind was a sudden, irrational fear that somehow Hermione might tell Draco his secret. In his heart of hearts he knew she would never do this to him, but as always, there was that tiny little voice at the back of his mind telling him that no one could be trusted, that it was always better to do things for yourself – then Hermione's would come to his mind, and it would all be forgotten. He regained his balance on his feet, and began to make his way back up towards the Gryffindor common room through the now sunny Hogwarts grounds. The sun reflected off the lake, lighting up the surrounding mountains with a pale, washed out sort of light. Ron could see the Slytherin Quidditch team were down at the pitches, practicing. An idea suddenly washed over him – is this what his life would be like had Voldemort died? It was not something that had occurred to him yet. Was that the only reason for difference in this world, or were the people different too? Were Hermione and _his_ Hermione two different people? It was certainly true for Draco and Potter, though they were two boys whose lives had been entirely affected by the downfall of Voldemort.

When Ron finally returned to the castle, he barely had time to collect his Potions textbook before he, Draco and Hermione headed down to the Dungeons together. He couldn't help but noticed that Potter had not made such a hasty movement to arrive on time for Professor Snape's lesson. There was an odd tension between the three of them as they wound their way through many hundreds of staircases towards the Dungeons. Draco was still nattering on about Ron's reinstatement on the Quidditch team, and his parent's big Christmas party, which sadly, he had to go to.

"The main problem with it is that my mad old aunt's going to be there with her daughter," he moaned bitterly as they approached Snape's classroom, "They live in Romania because her husband trains dragons. If there is any family member I hate, its Rodolphus Lestrange."

Ron felt his blood boil with anger, had the Lestranges never been sent to Azkaban? He thought of asking Hermione when they met tomorrow.

"But Sirius will be there won't he? And his brother?" Hermione asked kindly, stroking Draco's shoulder.

"Yeah, so I suppose I won't be the only Blood Traitor there. I think the only reason my mother invites him every year is as a deterrent for me, like 'this is what happens if you abandon the family values and marry a Muggle born'," Draco laughed, "Really he's an inspiration!"

"It might also be to do with the way that Regulus idolises him, mightn't it?" Hermione laughed, as they opened the door to Potions.

"Yeah, maybe," Draco chuckled too, "You've been oddly quiet, Ron, usually you have a _lot_ to say about Sirius Black."

When four o'clock came and it was time for Quidditch training to begin, Ron changed into his Gryffindor robes and headed down to the pitches. The sun had begun to set fast over the mountains which surrounded the lake, and there was a heavy chill in the air, even for November. Ginny was walking just in front of Ron, holding her broom and chatting happily to Dean Thomas, who was also on the team. Perhaps they had never broken up in this universe. Ron felt an odd combination of thrilled that she wasn't seeing Potter, and sad that she wasn't seeing Harry. He felt a sudden pang of guilt for his Harry. He had left them, just completely abandoned them, and left them to seek Horcruxes without him. The little voice played in his mind again –_ they didn't really need you anyway_ – but he shook it off, and swung the door to the changing rooms open.

"Late, Weasley?" Potter shouted the moment he walked into the room, and any guilt Ron had felt towards Harry vanished, replaced only by anger.

"Draco's still behind me!" Ron protested.

"Malfoy has another test tomorrow and requested that he could be let off Quidditch practice," Potter said jovially, "I told him he could go fuck himself, and kicked him off the team."

Nev Longbottom laughed from his side. Ron did a double take, he had not noticed before, but Neville was wearing Quidditch robes too, "Serves him bloody right, the little twerp."

"Slightly uncalled for, but okay," Ron said out loud, not realising what he had done until afterwards, "I … I mean, oh well. What can you do? Serves him right for being too full of himself."

"Dare I say you've fallen out of love with Malfoy, Weasley?" Potter jeered Ron in a voice he had heard _his_ Harry use only once before, when taunting and getting and Umbridge in their fifth year. This was a taunt reserved only for those who he truly hated – could Potter really hate Ron that much?

"Hah, perhaps a little," Ron laughed along, feeling a small amount of guilt towards his 'best friend' as he did so, "Anyway, let's play Quidditch!"

Potter turned and headed for the door the changing rooms, as Rosie Black burst in from outside, "Sorry I'm late, Harry!" she said quickly, this was the first time Ron had heard Potter called by his first name, "Draco only just told me that you needed me! You won't regret this choice – hey it'll be just like old times won't it?"

"Get outside," Potter snarled at Rosie as the team filed onto the pitch.

"What was that all about," Ron muttered to Rosie as they mounted their brooms.

"Believe or not, Ron," Rosie said matter-of-factly, "I still think he can be the guy who he used to be."

Rosie's cryptic comment played on Ron's mind throughout practice, though according to Ginny, he had been on the best form he'd ever been. Ron couldn't believe that his counterpart could be such a bumbling fool, as Ron had saved only one of the five goals which had been aimed at him. This was mainly because his head simply wasn't in the game, but he couldn't understand why Potter would have appointed him if, as Ginny said, he was such a crappy player. Exhausted from practice and head full of thoughts, Ron headed straight for bed after supper, where the rest of the Gryffindor seventh years stayed up chatting late into the night. He felt a desire to know more. He could hardly wait for his meeting with Hermione the next morning, but not only for the prospect of new information, also the idea of spending time alone with her. He felt a small amount of guilt for the feelings he was hiding for his best friend's girl-friend, but his heart wouldn't let them take over his head. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger belonged together, of this he was sure. He slept easily, though his dreams were long, confusing and scary. He could see Hermione and Harry, alone in the tent, in the cold, wondering where he, Ron, was. He tried to call out to them, but they couldn't hear him – the protective enchantments were too strong.

"Early again?" Hermione sat down on the ground beside Ron in the same position as they had the previous morning.

"What can I say?" Ron chuckled in spite of himself, "I just couldn't wait."

"Ron – before I say anything, I want you to know," Hermione took a deep breath, "I understand what you said about the _other_ me… but… I've been reading about Unipparition and…. I'm not her. I need you to understand that. I am not her. I love Draco- and before you say anything- that doesn't mean that _she_ doesn't love you. It just means that _I_ don't."

Ron felt his stomach tighten and his heart skip several beats, it was what he knew had been coming, but he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, "I understand," he said flatly, "I know she'll be waiting for when I get back… home… but in the meantime I want that the two of us are friends."

"That would be wonderful," Hermione hugged him tight, and he never wanted her to let go. Forcing himself to release her, he took a deep breath.

"So, where do we begin?" She asked him.

"Snape." Ron said firmly, "I need to know what happened with Snape."

"Snape is married to Lily Evans," Hermione began, "She and James Potter divorced when Potter was very small – it was on Halloween I think. Draco said that Sirius was having a party, and they came dressed up with Potter as a Golden Snitch, but at the end of the evening Lily went home with Snape, leaving James and Potter with Sirius."

"What a bitch!" Ron couldn't help himself. He had always heard stories of how admirable Lily Evans had been, the brightest witch of her age, incredibly brave, admirably kind… how could she have done such a thing? "Why?"

"No one knows," Hermione sighed, "But Draco reckons that's why Potter's such a bastard. You said that when you were friends with him he always had a difficult relationship with his mum."

"I guessed that he was an arsehole because he'd been brought up by James Potter," Ron laughed, suddenly remembering another question he had, "Why is James my Godfather?"

"I don't know do I?" Hermione laughed, "I only know what you've told me, or what I know from Draco and from watching it first hand or reading it… I just know James was a close friend of your parents."

"I see…" Ron had never heard James Potter mentioned by his parents other than through Harry, for one thing they were a good few years older than he was, "I have to ask this one – Voldemort. What happened to him?"

"I thought you might ask… and I'm a little bit hazy on the specifics, I mean, I wasn't there so," Hermione took a deep breath again, "I know that Snape killed him – around the time we were born – and that most of the Death Eaters were put in Azkaban. The exceptions were Regulus Black – Sirius's brother, he was too young at the time and had never actually killed anyone – the Lestranges, Rodolphus, Rabastan and Bellatrix – they moved to Romania so quickly that they couldn't be tried - and the Malfoys. Draco said that his father took the coward's way out a pleaded that he had been under the Imperius curse."

"That sounds familiar," Ron laughed, "So how come Draco didn't follow in Daddy's footsteps?"

"He always told me this story about when he was on his way to Kings Cross station to catch the Hogwarts Express for the very first time. His parents were both working at the Ministry, so his Mother's favourite cousin, Regulus, was trusted with their eldest son. Apparently, just as he was getting onto the train, Draco was pulled aside by Regulus who said 'You don't have to be like everyone else. Break free'."

"I always thought he'd been a weird guy," Ron laughed.

"Well it inspired Draco to break a family tradition for the second time in a century and became a Gryffindor," Hermione finished her story, "And I'm grateful for that."

"I don't think the Malfoy in our universe would ever have had the guts to do that," Ron said, eager to change the conversation back to Voldemort, "So is that really all you know about Voldemort?"

"Pretty much," Hermione said nervously, "Was it true…? What you said about Potter being the 'chosen one'?"

"Harry was never chosen," Ron smiled sadly, "It was a prophecy. It said that one of them would kill the other in the end. That's why Voldemort went after Harry's parents. That's why they died, and that's why Voldemort disappeared for so long. His killing curse that was aimed for Harry rebounded and broke him-"

"-so why did he not die?" Hermione asked quickly, "They say that he died with a single curse when Snape killed him."

"Maybe he didn't have any Horcruxes in this world," Ron offered.

"No, he did," Hermione said bluntly, "I read about it in a book somewhere… Voldemort trusted Snape to look after it for him and… Snape destroyed it before destroying him."

Ron suddenly had a huge amount of respect for Snape. Having experience how difficult it was to find and destroy a Horcrux himself, "How did he do it?"

"You'll have to ask him that yourself," Hermione replied quietly, "But I know that's the only reason he was able to kill him. I don't know much about what a Horcrux is, but I know it's pretty evil magic."

"I need to go and find Snape," Ron suddenly burst out, forgetting everything he had been thinking, everything he had been talking to Hermione about. He suddenly understood how important his mission to find Horcruxes was. He turned on his heels and made his way up towards the castle, leaving a very confused Hermione sitting alone in the forest.

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><p><strong>Yet another update! I've suddenly got so much love for this story... anyway, I really need your opinions, so please, please, please REVIEW!<strong>

**Love, as always**

**Mirandoo xxx**

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	7. Chapter 6 : The Questionable Aquaintance

Chapter 6-

Ron burst into Snape's office, even redder in the face than usual and panting hard like a dog. He had momentarily forgotten why he had sprinted like a wild animal to the Dungeons, leaving Hermione behind in the Forbidden Forest. It suddenly occurred to him that that may not have been the best idea. Snape sat behind his desk, quill in hand. Ron noticed a photograph of him with an attractive, red-headed woman who he assumed was Potter's mother.

"What do you want, Weasley?" Snape's voice was cold, but not so disdainful as it usually was when he addressed Ron. He stared at Ron with his dark eyes.

"I- I," Ron suddenly remembered why he had come here, but to ask Snape about Horcruxes out of the blue would seem mad, childish even. He remembered Harry's difficulties in talking to Slughorn the previous year, and then the memory came back to him, "Sir, I was in the library the other day… in the Restricted Section… and I came across something rather odd about a bit of rare magic-"

"- Where did you hear that, Weasley?" Snape's voice was breathy, confused, even a little afraid. Ron felt his face turn from red to a deep shade of maroon, "WHERE DID YOU HEAR THAT?" Snape shouted, standing up from behind his desk and rounding on Ron. He had never seen Snape this angry, even at Harry when he talked back.

Ron decided if he was going to get anything out of Snape, he would need to power through with his idea, "Sir, do you know anything about Horcruxes?"

"Get out of my sight." Snape's voice was quiet and full of hatred.

"No." Ron suddenly felt a surge of bravery wash over him. If he could find out how Snape had killed Voldemort in this world, perhaps it would help him to discover how they could kill Voldemort in his own. He imagined the look on _his_ Hermione's face when he finally returned home, triumphant, with the secret to destroying Horcruxes in his brain, "I'm not going to leave until you tell me what you know about Horcruxes."

"If you don't leave now, Weasley, I shall have to give you a detention," Snape sighed, his voice was less angry, just bored and disapproving.

"Please, Professor, this is important," Ron pleaded with Snape, "I _need _to know about them."

"No one ever needs to know about Horcruxes, Weasley," Snape sneered at him, "Despite having a talent for Potions, someone who is as sadly lacking in the magical department as yourself would be quite incapable of finding a Horcrux, let alone creating or destroying one."

"What do you know?" Ron took a new angle, testing Snape. If there was one thing he felt he knew about him, it was that he was a rather proud man, and an insult to his ego might convince him to share his secrets, "I bet you only killed Voldemort as a fluke-"

"Weasley, I have tolerated your abominable rudeness for a moment longer than I might have wished," Snape sighed, "I will allow you to leave without difficulty, and without a detention, if you leave now. Now." He repeated, gesturing towards the door.

Unsatisfied with Snape's attitude, Ron convinced himself that perhaps he should try again another day. He turned towards the door, kicking several stools on his way out, he understood the childish nature of his actions but it didn't bother him in the slightest. He lifted the heave handle to the creaking wooden door to the Potions Master's office, and as he did so, Ron could have sworn he heard Snape whisper "_Pipes"… _As Ron wandering through the corridors of the castle, flicking his Deluminator on and off, momentarily plunging himself into darkness, he remembered Hermione's scribbled message about the Basilisk. Could Snape know about the Chamber of Secrets? How could that possibly have helped him to destroy Voldemort? Suddenly he thought of the conversation that had persuaded him to abandon Harry and Hermione in the tent. _"The sword takes in only that which makes it stronger… The sword is impregnated with Basilisk venom!"_ Ron heard Hermione's voice ring through his head. Had Snape destroyed the Horcrux with a Basilisk fang? Ron shook the idea with his mind… he was being foolish. For one thing, the Snape of this world could not possibly know about the Basilisk attacks in his second year, nor about the message Hermione had written for them – they had never happened here. And yet… it seemed just too perfect.

"Good evening, Weasley," a serene voice spoke from behind Ron, and he turned around to find himself face to face with Professor Dumbledore. Ron realised that this was the only time he had spoken to Dumbledore on his own. He noticed that he was still holding the Deluminator, and hastened to shove it into the pockets of his robes.

"It's the morning, sir," Ron replied sheepishly.

"Is it indeed?" Dumbledore looked around quizzically, "And there I was, thinking it was time for supper. I so felt like sweet potatoes."

"You'll have to wait a while I'm afraid, Professor," Ron chuckled to himself.

"Yes, yes, but I often find that it is these little bumps in the road which have the most profound effect upon our lives, do you not agree?" Dumbledore's blue eyes pierced Ron's, "By the way, I couldn't help but admire your fine Deluminator. I do believe I have a similar one myself."

"Yes- well," Ron felt oddly confused and embarrassed.

"I hope you make good use of it, Weasley," Dumbledore peered over the top of his half-moon spectacles, "There is often more to these things than meets the eye. Good day, Mr. Weasley."

Ron blinked, and Dumbledore had disappeared behind a corner, "See you later, Professor." He said quietly, to no one in particular. That was without a doubt the oddest encounter Ron had ever experienced. It was as though Dumbledore knew everything that was going on, as though he could see through Ron's eyes and into his mind. Then it occurred to Ron that he probably could, Dumbledore was renowned as a highly accomplished Leglimens. Ron made a mental note to ask Harry about Occlumency when he got home. It was odd, since telling Hermione about how he wasn't from this Universe, his desire to return home had become all the more great.

"Why are you down here, Ron?"

Ron was beginning to grow tired of people constantly sneaking up on him, he turned around for what felt like the hundredth time that day, to see Potter standing behind him looking rather the worse for ware, "Went to see Snape," Ron said calmly, he felt no need to lie to Potter.

"That seems to be a popular thing to do today," Potter agreed, Ron noted he was being oddly polite, "Where are you heading?"

"Nowhere in particular," Ron commented.

"Another popular choice," Potter grinned at him, "Mind if I join you?"

"Why aren't you being an arsehole today?" Ron said suddenly, feeling his ears go red as he did so.

"Good one, Ron," Potter laughed, slapping Ron on the back, "You know there's no one around don't you?"

"What the bloody hell are you on about?" Ron shrugged himself away from Potter, who was still grinning happily at him, "You _hate_ me?"

"Only in public, mate," Potter continued to smile, "What's got into you?"

"Okay," Ron thought for a moment, "So, are you trying to tell me that we're friends now!"

"Pretty much," Potter said, "Seriously, what's wrong with you?"

"What the fuck?" Ron shouted suddenly, "So in public, you treat me like shit? But in private we're best mates?"

"Not best mates, more… amicable acquaintances," Potter chuckled, "Why are you acting like you don't know what's going on?"

"Because I don't know what the fuck is happening!" Ron shouted again, "One moment you hate me, the next you love me! Snape was actually a decent bloke for once! Hermione and Draco are fucking together and Dumbledore addresses me personally like we're fucking best friends!"

"Well, yeah," Potter said stupidly, "I don't know about the Snape thing, he's always been a dick to me, obviously, but you know… Hermione and Draco _have_ been together for about a year, I know you love her mate, but you can't only be realising this _now_?"

"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" Ron screamed, his head felt like it was going to explode. It felt as though he'd had to relearn everything that had ever happened in his life, only to discover that most of it was a lie, and have to relearn it again.

"It's pretty clear what's going on here," Potter sighed, as he and Ron began to walk together through the corridor in no direction in particular.

"Is it?" Ron said sarcastically, "Is it _really_?"

"Yeah," Potter replied, "Fucking Septimus Malfoy's hit you with a Befuddling charm again. Bloody bastard, I know you still think Draco's a good guy, but I'm convinced he's more like his brother than he lets on."

"Why are you _always_ so suspicious of Malfoy?" Ron asked. His conversation with Potter, as in his one with Hermione, was allowing his guard to slip for a moment.

"Dunno mate," Potter laughed, "Something about blonde hair creeps me out."

Ron laughed too, his confusing descending into happiness. He had found it difficult to believe that any manifestation of Harry could be as much of a bastard as Potter had been to him, not wanting to trust him too much, Ron chose not to tell him his secret, "So why were you seeing Snape?"

"Wanted to tell him to fuck off."

"Really?" Ron asked sceptically.

"Nah, not really," Potter laughed, "My dad asked me to send a message to mum. Something about wanting his mum's ring back. The bitch still has it."

"How long ago did they break up again?" Ron asked coolly, finding it odd hearing Harry talking about his parents.

"About seventeen years I think," Harry sighed, "Best thing that ever happened to my dad, Sirius reckons. Then again, he would think that, wouldn't he?"

"Yeah," Ron laughed, feeling it was better to act as though he knew _exactly_ what Sirius might think, "Snape's such a smarmy git though isn't he?"

"Woah – I've never heard you say a bad word against the greasy bastard!" Harry said in mock amazement, "That's the main reason we stopped being friends, remember?"

"Not in the slightest," Ron said. His tone was sarcastic, even if his words were not. It was so easy to talk to Harry again, it felt as though they had just been in an argument, and reconciled, "So why are we friends again?"

"Mutual hatred of Draco Malfoy of course," Harry smiled at him, "Septimus got you pretty well didn't he?"

"Clearly…" said Ron, "Remind me again why we hate him?"

"Well of course, you hate him because he stole your girl," Harry replied, "And I hate him because he's a smarmy little bastard."

"Fair enough," said Ron, he loved how easy to trick Harry was. Unfortunately this was a trait that _his_ Harry had long since lost. They had managed to walk all the way to the Gryffindor common room without meeting another soul. They approached the Fat Lady, and gave her the password, _Gurdyroots_, and the portrait hole swung open, as they walked into the bustling common room, Ron turned to Harry and said, "So, fancy going to practice Quidditch later, mate?"

"Hah, good joke, Weasley," Harry sneered at Ron, using a tone that Ron now recognised as false hatred, "I'd rather snog that giant squid. Later, ginger."

Ron felt a combination of confusion and understanding as Potter swaggered over to sit with Nev and Lavender Brown. He chose to take a seat next to Hermione and Draco, who were cuddled together on the sofa. Ron suddenly understood how the sight of that every day might turn you to be friends with Potter after all, even if he was a bastard most of the time. He felt sick to his stomach.

"If it's any consolation, I think you two would be better together," Rosie Black said from behind him as they walked towards the pair together.

"Thanks, Rosie," Ron grinned at her as they sat down beside Draco and Hermione, who broke apart. Ron couldn't help but feel an easing in his stomach and in his mind. He looked over to where Potter was sitting, laughing loudly with a raucous group of Sixth-Years. Ron couldn't understand why they weren't friends in public when they so clearly got on, but at the same time, he was still cautious of whether or not Potter could be trusted. He meant to ask Hermione about it the next time they met – hopefully it would also be a good opportunity to apologise for abandoning her earlier as well. She kept shooting him odd glances as they spoke, clearly wary of him now. He grinned foolishly at her, but she did not smile back. Ron's stomach sank once more, and the sick feeling which he had become so used to returned.

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><p><strong>WOAH! What just happened there ;) ? Did you guys enjoy my little twist... Okay, now is the time when I need advice, so what do you guys think should happen next? If there are any ideas I like I will incorporate them into my next chapter, but only if you REVIEW!<strong>

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